Holler If Ya Need Me
by TheSilverArgents
Summary: Katherine can do anything. Well, almost anything.


A/N: I loved writing this one, seeing as it's one of my person headcanons that Katherine has issues with cooking. Keep the prompts coming!

Katherine can do anything. She can write stories, articles, advice columns, letters. She's pretty good at math, she can play the pianoforte, she can even sing (but don't tell anyone. But, three weeks into her marriage with Jack Kelly she realized she couldn't cook. Those first three weeks were easy to get through. The first was spent in a hotel up in the mountains for their honeymoon (paid for by her father) where they dined at the hotel's restaurant every night. The next two weeks were spent moving into their new apartment which left little time for a home-cooked meal, resulting in dinner at the deli for two weeks.

But now, things were becoming quiet. Or as quiet as they could become with a family of newsies always hanging around them. But still, they were calming down and finally were able to get home and relax for a while. She was laying on their sofa with her head in his lap when she realized how hungry she was. "Oh my gosh, I'm starving." she muttered as he ran his hands through her hair.

Jack nodded in agreement and then his face brightened. "I almost forgot! Davey's mom left her recipe for spaghetti and meatballs here. She called it a housewarming gift or something like that."

"Oh." Katherine said uncertainly as he gently moved her off of him to get the recipe.

"What? I thought you loved her spaghetti?" Jack asked with a confused pull of his brows.

"Oh, yeah, I do. But, I just haven't bought the ingredients or anything. We haven't even done groceries."

Jack smiled at her and rocked back on his heels. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and said, "I might have done them for you. I mean, you were so busy with that article and unpacking all the stuff, I kinda thought I could do something to help you out."

She smiled in spite of herself and walked over to him, "That" she began, tiptoeing up to kiss him softly, "Was very thoughtful."

He pressed his forehead against hers for a moment and then said, "Okay, do you need help?"

"With what?" She inquired.

"With dinner."

"Oh no!" She exclaimed, hoping he wouldn't catch onto her lie. "I can make dinner on my own, go and finish that cartoon for the Sun."

"Okay." He smiled, "Holler if ya need me, Ace."

* * *

Twenty-minutes and Katherine had made rolled 10 meatballs. Well, they were more like meat lumps. They kind of just sat there, not looking anything like what Davey's mother usually served on a Friday night. She decided to call Jack.

"Jaaaack!" She called, poking at the meatball with a fork. He strolled into the kitchen with a smirk, "Can't go twenty minutes without this face, can ya?"

"Ha, ha." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. She quickly sobered up and said, "I think something's wrong." She showed him her work and she could see he was trying to hide something. "What? What is it? Did I do it wrong?"

"No, you did them alright. It's just, did you roll them in your hands or on the table?"

"On the table." She answered cautiously.

He clicked his tongue, "You gotta do it in your hands, like a snowball."

"Oh." She said in realization. She picked one up and rolled the raw meat in her hands carefully. After a couple of seconds, she stopped and held it up to show her husband. "I did it, right?"

"Yeah, ya did it." he said smiling.

She smiled at herself proudly and shooed him away with a "Go away now" and began rolling another one.

"Okay, he said stepping out of the kitchen, "Holler if ya need me."

* * *

"Jaaaaack!" She shouted at the top of her lungs 45 minutes later.

"What?" He asked running in, "Is the kitchen on fire?"

"No, don't be silly. Look, nothing's happening to the spaghetti." She gestured toward the stove where the spaghetti sat, still dry in the pot.

"Okay, you turned the stove on?" He asked.

"Yes, I turned the stove on! I nearly burned myself, but yes!" She exclaimed.

"What you burned yourself?" He worried, momentarily distracted.

"Nearly, but that's not the point. Nothing's happening to it, it's still stiff."

"Did ya bring the water to a boil?" Jack inquired.

"A boil?" She pursed her lips in confusion, "How do you know when it's boiling?"

"Little bubbles start up at the top." He said as if it was common knowledge.

"I didn't see little bubbles." She admitted with a sigh.

"Okay, the water has to be boiling and then you put the spaghetti in." He told her gently. Without further ado, he grabbed the spaghetti with one hand and placed it on a napkin. "We just gotta wait 'til it comes to a boil, then we can put it back in."

She nodded solemnly and admitted quietly, "I've never cooked before. I'm…not very good at this." She bit her lips after those words. It wasn't something she often said.

"Hey, hey, Ace, look at me." He gently grabbed her chin so that she would look at him. "it's alright, you can learn. I'll teach ya."

"Really?" She asked hopefully, excitement bubbling forth at the idea learning something new.

"For sure, Ace." His smile turned into a smirk, "Ani't ya lucky ya married me?"

"Jack Kelly: Newsie, Union Leader, artist, and chef. I'm sure the boys'll love that last one." She smirked back.

"Alright, alright." He conceded, "Let's get to work."


End file.
